


My Dreams Lie with You

by hokay



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, Red White and Royal Blue Fic Exchange 2020, Spring Exchange, Unconventional Bed Sharing, You'll see what I mean, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokay/pseuds/hokay
Summary: Five times Alex and Henry slept together and one time they actually did it in a bed.(Not like that.)
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 171
Collections: RWRB Spring Fling Exchange





	My Dreams Lie with You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the very lovely Elena for the **2020 Red, White, and Royal Blue spring fic exchange**! Bed-sharing was one of the tropes she mentioned so I just made these poor boys fall asleep wherever they could. 
> 
> Huge thanks to [Syd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyverning) for the beta! And to [Aurum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni) for being a stellar cheerleader. You're both beautiful human beans and I adore you.
> 
> Title borrowed from _Forever_ by Mumford & Sons

  
**i. The Plane**  


Air travel is always exhausting. Alex remembers how the fatigue had settled deep into his bones during Ellen's campaign, but he always seemed to have energy to spare back then. Now, shuttering back and forth from London to D.C. and law school has made him ancient. (If he’s being totally honest with himself, it’s mostly law school.) As soon as they board, he can hardly keep his eyes open. Once he hits his seat, lethargy overtakes him like a sickness, creeping into the base of his neck and his temples and settling there like a very large, very unpleasant squatter. He lets out a long sigh, bracing himself, before he reaches into his bag and pulls out his Crim Law textbook, his laptop, and a highlighter.

“Darling,” Henry says as he settles in next to Alex, rubbing the back of Alex’s neck in a way that used to instantly gear him up for round two (or three or four). Now, it just makes him want to purr like a cat caught in sunlight. “Why don’t you shut your eyes for a bit until we land?” 

“Too much work to do,” Alex mumbles, even though he feels thoroughly wrung out.

“It’s Saturday,” Henry says with a hint of laughter. “I think you can skive off one day to get some sleep.” 

Alex looks hazily over at him. Henry’s one to talk — his dark circles can be seen from space. “Pot, kettle,” he says waspishly. 

Henry brow wrinkles. “I’m fine.” 

“Bullshit.” Alex points accusingly with his highlighter. “We just finished the family visit from hell where I was nothing but charming to your grandmother — who I thoroughly believe, by the way, has commissioned MI6 to take me out should the opportunity arise. I haven’t had a second to think about the massive pile of reading I have to do this weekend, and I really need to be prepared for this stupid fucking class because the professor is ancient and still believes the Socratic method is the greatest thing since fire. So, you’ll have to excuse me, _sweetheart_ , if I don’t believe that you’re fine because I’m not sure if — hey!” 

“You sound like a psychopath,” Nora says, tucking Alex’s highlighter into her backpack like she’s just confiscated something armed and dangerous. “Go the fuck to sleep.” 

Henry opens his mouth, presumably to gloat, before Nora points at him without looking up from her iPad and says, “You too, Prince Charming.” 

Alex huffs pettily but his eyelids are too heavy to let him be salty for too long and before he knows it, the gentle thrum of the airplane and Nora tapping on the screen of her tablet is lulling him into a dreamless sleep. 

When Alex wakes next, his head is pillowed on Henry’s shoulder. He can tell from the weight on the crown of his head that Henry’s using Alex for a pillow in turn. They’re curled towards each other, knees touching in the narrow space. Nora’s still sitting across from them, a satisfied, knowing smile playing across her mouth. The iPad is still in her lap.

“I want those pictures,” Alex whispers to her.

Nora just smiles wider and keeps on tapping.

  
**ii. The Hammock**  


“Ah, summer,” Alex groans, toppling carelessly backward into the enormous rope hammock Oscar has graciously strung between two tall cottonwood trees. The trees’ branches stretch out, shading him from the worst of the Texas sunshine, but Alex’s skin still shimmers happily from the heat. Fall, winter, and chilly spring in D.C. still hurt his Texas-boy heart too much. When his dad had suggested they come down for the long weekend, Alex had said “Fuck it” to his internship and immediately packed a bag. All he wants is a margarita, a book, and his dad’s tamales.

Well. And one other thing.

Henry eyes the hammock distrustfully, all golden and slightly sunburnt even though they’ve only been outside for ten minutes. “I am never quite certain that this thing won’t dump me on the ground.”

“C’mere, baby,” Alex says with a grin. “I’ll catch you.”

Henry eyes Alex distrustfully. “No.”

“Henry.”

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

Henry crosses his arms and Alex gets distracted because _biceps_. “That look that says that you’re pretending to be sweet but the minute I step over there, you’re going to do something horrendous.”

Alex claps a hand to his chest in a way that would put Scarlett O’Hara to shame. “I would _never_.”

“Oh, fuck off and budge up,” Henry says with a laugh.

Alex obligingly moves his legs out of the way, setting Michelle Obama’s autobiography gently on the clean grass so that its pointy corners don’t get in the way of the canoodling that Alex has been counting on since they landed at DFW.

Henry does exactly as Alex taught him, sitting gingerly on the edge and balancing with his feet. He shifts his body and swings his legs up, perfectly balanced and graceful as he evens out and tucks in tight against Alex’s side.

“There,” Alex says, brushing a wisp of blonde hair out of Henry’s eyes. “Nothing horrendous at all.”

“Mmm, indeed not,” Henry says, satisfied, winding one arm around Alex’s waist and slotting his foot in between Alex’s. “Now you just keep it that way and there’ll be no international incidents.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Alex says cheekily, dropping a kiss on Henry’s forehead but Henry just hums again, breathing steadily against Alex’s neck.

That’s where Oscar finds them two hours later, basking in the shade, Henry’s head pillowed on Alex’s shoulder, legs tangled, the book long forgotten on the ground beside them.

  
**iii. The Floor**  


Henry shuts the door to the brownstone behind him much later than he’d planned. The fundraiser had run late and without Alex there to remind him that there were better things to do at home, he’d completely forgotten himself.

David trundles up to meet him, huffing happily, and Henry reaches down to scratch behind his ears. He notices a light glowing down the hall; not in the office, as he would have expected, but in the living room.

“What’s going on, boy?” he whispers to David as he kicks off his shoes. “Movie night?”

As he steps through, Henry realizes how wrong he is and has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

Alex in the middle of trial prep is a hurricane nightmare. He barely sleeps and when he does, it’s power naps that do more harm than good. Henry hasn’t seen him crash yet, but every dog has its day and Alex’s day has come on a Wednesday at ten o’clock in the evening.

He’s fast asleep in the middle of the living room rug, computer forgotten to one side. A set of case files serves as his pillow and a manila folder as a highly inefficient blanket.

Henry steps gingerly around the mess, picking his way through depositions and court exhibits until he can crouch down next to Alex, plucking off his glasses and folding them before putting them lovingly out of reach on the side table.

“Alex,” Henry murmurs. “Alex, you’re going to be dreadfully sore if you keep sleeping on the floor like this.”

One leg stirs but no eyes open. “I’m dead,” Alex croaks, not even turning his head in Henry’s direction. “This case has killed me.”

“Well, let’s see if we can have you be dead in a proper bed, hmm?”

The only answer Henry gets is a pitiful whine and he sighs. They’re both perfectionists in their own right, both too determined to conquer failure that they don’t even stop to consider how they’re failing themselves sometimes. Henry’s been going to a reliable therapist every other week for two years now to help him cope; Alex just goes when it all gets to be too much.

Henry makes a mental note to have Alex call his doctor in the morning and sighs, pulling two pillows off the couch and trading the case files for one of them.

“Thank you,” Alex sighs, a little defeated, and Henry strokes one thumb over Alex’s cheekbone.

“I love you,” he breathes and Alex turns towards him, hands clutching at Henry’s sides until they’re wrapped around each other like sardines in a tin.

If they wake up stiff, well.

  
**iv. The Couch**  


It’s one of the worst fights of their relationship to date. It starts with something small — Henry feeling obligated to volunteer for some hideous event with Phillip — and escalates when Alex takes on more casework from a partner who doesn’t do much more than play golf and direct microaggressions around Alex but never directly at him. A miscommunication about dinner turns into an argument over whose family gets them for Christmas, and before they know it, Henry’s snatching his pillow in a huff and making his way to the sofa as Alex slams the door behind him.

Now, as he curls under the thick blanket Zahra and Shaan had given them as a housewarming present, Henry misses Alex’s warmth. Once he’d gotten used to sharing a bed with someone, it was a hard habit to break, especially when all he wants is comfort and a good snuggle. He regrets leaving but he regrets the things he said even more.

Henry thinks about the way Alex’s eyes go dark when he’s angry; he thinks about the way he, himself, says the worst things he can think of when he wants to hurt, when he wants to win. He can’t remember his parents ever fighting like this; he wonders if they ever did. He wonders where this ungenerous part of himself comes from and why it rears its ugly head with the people he loves most. He’s moping. He may also be pining a little. Is it possible to pine when the object of your pining is just in the other room? He feels the same way he did when he fled Texas, when he couldn’t even look at Shaan because he didn’t know if he was making the right decision. It fucking hurts.

Henry’s made up his mind to grovel, prostrate himself before the bedroom door and beg Alex to let him back in when he hears said door open. He props himself up on one elbow, listening. He’s made up his mind that his brain is inventing things before Alex appears around the corner, nearly scaring him out of his skin. Even in the dim light from the street lamps, Henry can see how sad he looks, and it breaks his heart a little more.

“I know we’re fighting,” Alex says lowly. “But I can’t fucking sleep if you’re not there.”

“Come here,” Henry says without hesitation, lifting the blanket so Alex can slip under. He turns so his back is pressed securely against Henry’s front, spooning on a couch that’s definitely not big enough for two grown men to be spooning.

They lie there in silence for a solid minute, Alex tense in Henry’s arms before he says, “I fucking hate that asshole.”

Henry doesn’t know if he’s talking about Phillip or the partner or the rude mailman who’d brought the Christmas cards. He could be talking about Henry; it doesn’t matter. He brushes his nose into Alex’s curls and bestows a soft kiss right at the nape of his neck.

“Go to sleep, love,” he whispers.

Alex makes a sad, sleepy noise at the back of his throat, but his breathing evens out within seconds. Henry presses another kiss to his neck, breathing in the sweet, smoky scent of Alex’s skin.

They’ll apologize in the morning. It will be okay.

  
**v. The Car**  


“We’re lost.”

“We’re not.”

“We are!” 

June glares at Alex in the rearview mirror. “Alex, when I say we’re not lost, I’m pretty confident that we’re not fucking lost.”

“Pretty confident doesn’t count,” Alex snipes.

Pez snorts from where he’s riding shotgun. June shoots him a murderous glare.

Henry reaches over, taking Alex’s hand in an effort to stave off a Claremont-Diaz sibling war. “Darling,” he says quietly, “Let’s not give June any reason to drive off this already perilous mountainside, shall we?”

Alex grins at him. “You’re really not wild about heights, huh?”

Outside Alex’s window, rocks and trees flash by as they climb further into the Rocky Mountains. Henry’s just grateful he can’t see down the side of the mountain like Alex can; the bends and twists in the road are making him dangerously ill as it is and he just wants to get to the cabin and pull Alex into a hot tub for the rest of the evening.

He’s never roadtripping with these three again.

“Baby,” Alex says, running his thumb over the back of Henry’s hand. Henry looks over and Alex is offering one side of his headphones, a small smile playing over his lips. “Wanna listen to that guy read public domain books?”

“Yes, please,” Henry says gratefully, taking the earbud and settling as the soothing voice of Otis Gray reading _The Secret Garden_ trails in over the sounds of June making her way steadily up the mountain.

In the front seat, Pez is flipping through Instagram and laughing quietly at something June’s said. Alex’s chin is pillowed on his free hand as he looks out the window; the fingers of his other hand are still tangled with Henry’s thumb still stroking gently at odd intervals. Despite his uneasiness with the narrow road and the height of the mountain, Henry feels warmer and a little lighter than he has since they started their journey up.

The sign for the cabin comes into sight about an hour later and June looks back in the rearview, ready to crow triumphantly that she was right and Alex was wrong, _so there_ , but Alex’s head is tilted against his window, mouth open slightly. Henry’s resting against the opposite window, head propped his arm, also fast asleep. The headphone cord stretches between the two of them, but the firm clasp of their hands is what really makes June smile.

  
**vi. The Bed**  


“Yes,” Alex groans, sinking into the feather softness of the massive bed. “That’s it. I’m leaving you for this bed. This bed and I are in a committed relationship. You’re old news. It’s been real, baby, but I’ve moved on.”

“Mmhmm,” Henry says absently, scrolling through his emails. “I’m very happy for you both.”

“Henry,” moans Alex from the middle of the bed. “We said no phones.”

Henry’s eyes are amused when he looks up. “What if I’m checking my phone for something for you?”

“Oh, that’s fine, then.” Alex laughs and rolls to the edge of the bed, slipping off to wedge himself between Henry and the currently-offensive phone. “Wanna go see if the shower’s as big as the bed?”

Henry grins and throws his phone in his suitcase.

Later, after they’ve dried off and are lounging on the bed trying to decide what to do for dinner, Alex rolls over and props himself on one arm so that he’s leaning over Henry.

“Would you rather,” Alex starts, and Henry braces himself for something ridiculous. Alex catches his eye roll and laughs. “Hey, shut up. Would you rather kiss me for one hundred dollars or the hottest person you know for seven hundred dollars?”

God, Henry loves him so much. “That’s easy. I’d kiss the hottest person I know for eight hundred dollars. Or pounds, preferably, considering the exchange rate.”

Alex pouts. It’s charming. “Rude.”

“Hey?”

“You’re supposed to say me!”

Henry fixes him with an incredulous stare. “Alex.”

“What?”

“If kissing you gets me one hundred and kissing the hottest person I know gets me seven hundred...”

“Yeah..."

Henry rolls his eyes again and reaches over to trail his fingers over Alex’s arm, chasing the goosebumps that pop up in their wake. He watches as Alex thinks about it, lips moving minutely as he does the math. His eyes light up when he gets there and Henry falls in love all over again.

“Oh,” Alex breathes.

“Yes,” laughs Henry, utterly delighted.

“It’s the bed,” says Alex in protest, flinging his arm out to demonstrate the bed’s bigness once again, as if that wasn’t part of the reason they booked this hotel room anyway. It was some time away for themselves, away from family and work and obligations. Henry’s never been to Memphis and Alex had only been once before, so staying at a grand historical hotel like The Peabody had been an absolute must. Now that they’ve arrived, however, Henry feels the contentment of being somewhere with Alex settle deep into his bones. Tomorrow, they’re going to spend time honoring the National Civil Rights Museum and wander down Beale Street but tonight, they have each other all to themselves.

“Alex, sweetheart,” Henry says with a yawn. “How do you feel about a lie-in tomorrow?”

Alex’s smile is a little tired and adoringly fond. “I think that’s one of the best ideas you’ve ever had.”

“Mm,” Henry sighs, holding out his arms so that Alex can slip under the covers and curl into his side. “As always, everything that is the best and right in my life begins and ends with you.”

They fall asleep pressed together, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> The podcast referenced is [Sleepy](https://open.spotify.com/show/1NUbfl24dTruZSMDfLq24Y?si=TUFrpljlTmWJoCwk9WswKQ) and I highly recommend it if you're someone who needs a little background noise to get to sleep. 
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](pastelle-pvnk.tumblr.com)!


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